Love Has Nothing To Do With It
by desolate inspiration
Summary: It was always the same. It wasn't every night.. sometimes not even every week. And yet no matter how much time passed, it never changed. A short exploration of Legretta's feelings about Van. Mild mature content.


After watching the Tales of the Abyss anime, I was fascinated by several concepts; one of which being Legretta's statement that she loved Van. I decided to explore this a bit more in a simple one shot, though it may evolve into several chapters of different moments between the Commandant and the Major. For now, it's just this one. Please remember to feed your authors with a review, we need love too! And know that if you flame, your flames will just be used to make marshmallows. :) I don't own Tales of the Abyss, or any of the characters. ..Though I'd kill to own Jade. Mmmm.

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It was always the same. It wasn't every night.. sometimes not even every week. And yet no matter how much time passed, it never changed. He would come to her. He would have that darkness in his beautiful blue-green eyes, his strong shoulders slumped beneath the weight of the burden they bore. He would look at her, and he would say nothing; words were unnecessary, at this point. They knew each other well enough for that. She would open her arms to him, and he would fall into them. He would fall into _her_. And she, for all her outward hardness, was soft when it came to him.

His hands were rough. It was to be expected, from so many years of handling a sword. And yet for all the calluses, his touch was always gentle, even when urgency made his movements quick and unsteady. He would look at her, such need written in his eyes, as he guided her from the door; their clothing was shed rapidly, tossed here and there, left to fall forgotten to the floor.

He would caress her with such skill, despite his rush to seek that release; she was useful to him, and he always did treat his toys as well as he possibly could. If that meant giving her a little bit more of his attention, just enough to make sure she was content when he sought his own pleasure, then so be it. He would have her gasping beneath him, her world rocked by pleasure, before he took her. He was never too rough with her, for though she was strong, she was still a woman. His hands left bruises on her hips, his beard scratching the milky skin of her throat and breasts.

Yet no matter how many times they met like this, countless trysts over the years since he'd found her, never once did he kiss her. Nor could he bring himself to look into her pale blue eyes as she came unbound beneath him, her blonde hair tousled and sweaty. He would never say her name when he achieved completion. He would simply press his hips close to hers, and growl softly as he lost himself.

And every time, when it was all over and done with, he would pull away and sit on the edge of the bed. His head lowered, light brown hair would fall around his face and shoulders, somehow immaculate even when it was mussed with the heat of her passion, and his lust. He would look at the floor, silent; she would stare at the ceiling, wishing that once, just once, he would stay. That he wouldn't say what she knew he would. The silence would be broken, after several long, tense moments. "Giselle.. do not fall in love with me."

Her lips would purse, and her eyes would close as his words pierced her heart like a blade. She wasn't sure what was worse; that he would say that, or that he would use her real name. Not even the other God-Generals knew the woman behind the mask, the facade of Legretta the Quick. And yet Van.. Van knew everything. He used it as a weapon, if only to keep her in line. She would always laugh, trying to hide just how much he hurt her, before replying. "Love has nothing to do with it."

He always seemed to take the words at face value, unaware of how she died a little bit more inside every time. As long as she was alive and helping him, what did it matter to him if he broke her heart? Nothing else was said as he gathered his clothing, righted his appearance, and left. He didn't even look her way as the door was opened, and he left.

She never cried. Legretta the Quick didn't cry. But somewhere inside her, the woman who had once been Giselle Oslo broke down, unseen and unheard.


End file.
